Please Leave a Message
by calliopechild
Summary: The message is still on the machine...if I go over there now, I could erase the message and be back home before anyone noticed I was gone. April would never know I had called. It isn’t too late to undo this entire mess and fix things.


_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own the TMNT. If I did, I'd be rich. Since I'm currently trolling for holiday jobs, I am obviously not rich. Ergo, I don't own the TMNT. Sigh._

_Hello again! It's been a while, hasn't it? Nearly six months since I've posted anything in this fandom…oi. Far too long, if you ask me. I've missed it. Unfortunately, school and a flighty group of muses have gotten in the way. I am triumphing at last, though! I'm finally having an easier time getting things written down, and school will be done for the semester in just two weeks! I'm looking forward to it, 'cause I've got a lot of stuff I want to work on. A couple more one-shots, some multi-chapter stories again…I'll be living at my computer, basically. :D_

_Anyway, I hope you guys like this. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, actually. It's the first in a series of one-shots I'm doing, all with the theme of 'messages'. Each of the guys will have a one-shot, and Splinter might, depending on how the creative juices flow. Not all of them will have a fitting title, though; the only titles I could think of with that word in them were this one, "Message in a Bottle", and "Subliminal Messages". :b (On that note, if any of you can think of a fourth saying with the word 'message' in it, I'd really appreciate it; it'll drive me nuts if only three have a title that fits. :D) And that's all I've got! Please enjoy._

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Don scowled at his computer screen, sighing at his inability to focus. He'd been trying all week to find the time to work on coding some upgrades to the Lair's security into his database, and now that he finally had the time, he couldn't stop thinking about…certain things.

Like April, for example. And the fact that she was out on a date with Casey. Again. Even after all the crap she had had to deal with, she was giving the man another chance.

While _he_ had never even gotten a _first_ chance.

Don sighed and pushed away from his desk, walking to the kitchen for a glass of milk as he chastised himself for his frustration and (grudgingly admitted) jealousy.

_April doesn't owe me anything,_ he thought to himself as poured his drink and sipped it._ Especially not the opportunity at a relationship with an extremely low chance of success._

The purple-banded turtle sat down at the kitchen table and frowned into his milk. _And yet, it'd still work better than things are between her and Casey. He's screwed up at least half a dozen dates already._ Another sip. _Not that I'm counting._

Don had never been able to get over his attraction to April; the most he'd ever been able to manage was to hide it. It was fine, at first. His brothers (he never was sure if Leo did, but then, Leo hid everything) had crushed on her too, at least for a while; she'd been the first woman they'd actually interacted with, and she was…beautiful, to put it mildly. But then she had slipped from 'crush' to 'sister' for them, the familiarity changing their attraction into platonic, sibling-like affection.

Except for Don.

April was just too…_incredible_ for him to see her as just a friend. She was brilliant, and kind, and passionate. Even though his common sense constantly pointed out that not only would it be impossible for them to ever be more than friends, it would also drastically affect the dynamic of everyone's relationships within their small circle…he just couldn't stop watching her and hoping.

And then along came Casey, and Don was certain that any infinitesimal chance he might have had got Fed-Ex-ed to hell in a hand basket.

He understood why the two of them came together: because of him and his brothers. He could even understand why they were attracted to each other and started a relationship: April was gorgeous, and Casey wasn't…extremely physically unappealing, and they spent a lot of time together, and studies show that many unexpected relationships begin as a result of the principle of propinquity.

But what he couldn't understand was why April had kept trying with him for three years.

Don would be the first (or maybe the second) to admit that Casey was a good person and a great friend; they owed their lives to him, and he was someone they could always count on. But Casey was also loud, and brash, and bumbling, and a dedicated vigilante…and all wrong for April.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. He'd be more likely to spontaneously combust on command than successfully make it through a conversation like that with April. Don sighed and glanced out across the Lair, hoping for something to distract him from his thoughts. A familiar-looking golf bag caught his attention, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Raph," he called, speaking to the brother currently heading up to go work on his Shell Cycle.

The red-banded turtle craned his head around the doorway. "Yeah, what?"

"What is Casey's weapons bag doing here?" Don asked evenly, his grip tightening on his drink glass.

Raph glanced over at the bag and shrugged. "Oh. We were out earlier, and when we got back, he freaked out and said somethin' about bein' late. Dunno what for, he just left it here. Said he'd be by to pick it up later."

"Ah. Thanks."

Don managed to wait until Raph left before his grip on his temper snapped. In one motion, he shoved his chair back and stood, storming over to the phone. Three years of thinking and waiting and watching was enough. _I can't take this anymore_, he thought darkly as he dialed April's number. _Going crime-hunting right before their date, and then nearly forgetting their date—that's the last straw. I'm not going to slander anyone, but I __**am**__ going to tell her that she should __**not**__ have to put up with this any longer._ Don waited impatiently as the phone rang, and stiffened as April's answering machine picked up.

"_You have reached the residence of April O'Neil. Please leave a message at the sound of the tone, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_

He took a deep breath as a shrill beep sounded over the phone. _Now or never._

"Hi, April, this is Don. Look, I know you're out right now—that's why I called, actually, because I knew you'd be out. You—" Don sighed, calming himself before he continued.

"This entire conversation is probably going to complete overstep the bounds of our friendship, but I can't keep this to myself anymore," he said softly into the receiver. "I don't presume to know what you want, but I don't think it's Casey. Don't get me wrong, he's a good person, but he is not a man to have a relationship with, especially not for you. I realize that I have no right to say this or judge you. I realize that I sound extremely presumptuous and chauvinistic and jealous, but that's because I am. Jealous, I mean; I'd like to think that I'm not chauvinistic. I won't try and beg off being presumptuous, because I know that this extremely intrusive into your personal life. But…Casey is wrong for you. You deserve someone attentive and reliable, who appreciates and understands you. And I'm not going to try and pretend that my motives are altruistic or that I'm speaking from an apathetic or removed position." He swallowed before pushing on.

"_I_ want to be that someone. I want to be the one that you call after a bad day because you need to talk or vent. I want to be around you, to see that glint in your eye whenever you encounter a challenge or a problem…and then I want to stand aside and watch you overcome that obstacle _on your own_, because that's how you prefer to do things. I know that. You are strong and independent and brilliant, and you want to show that to the world. I want to be there for all of that, all of you. I—I want _**you**_ April. I know there are a lot of reasons this couldn't work, but I'm calling because I also think that there are reasons it _could_ work." He swallowed again and glanced at the clock on the wall. "I need to hang up now, before I impose any more. That, and your answering machine is probably going to cut me off soon, and I'd really rather that not happen during something like this. So…I'll talk to you later. I hope. Goodnight, April."

Don hung up the phone resolutely and set it down, then walked towards his lab in a confident state of self-actualization.

He made it three steps before the panic sunk in.

"Oh shell." The whisper had to claw its way out of his throat, which apparently had suddenly collapsed in on itself in horror. "I really just did that. I really just called her and left that message. I am in deep shit. I am swamped in fecal matter, and I just don't know it yet." He caught himself mid-panic and froze, suddenly relaxing. "No, that's not right. I would never call her. I wouldn't do that. I've known her for years, and I've never even made a _plan_ to make a move. There's no way that I would suddenly get fed up and risk our entire friendship with one stupid, _poorly_ planned phone call just because she went out on a date with Casey. That's not me; that's not what I do. I'm not impulsive and rash, that's Raph. I am calm, and deliberate, and I think things through and weigh the probabilities of outcomes before I take part in possibly disastrous action. That didn't just happen; there was just…something in that milk. It—it went bad, spoiled, or, or something—" He glanced over at the table, aiming a glare at the offensive cup of mind-warping milk.

Instead, he saw the phone, right where he'd left it after calling April.

"Shit."

Don slumped onto the ground, his legs failing in a haze of numbing horror.

"What have I done?" he whispered to himself softly. He closed his eyes and leaned backward, smacking his head against the wall. "There's no way she could ever feel the same, no way it could work…" Don swallowed thickly. "I've ruined everything. If I could just erase—"

_The answering machine,_ Don thought suddenly._ The message is still on the machine, and April won't be back for at least another hour. If I go over there now, I could erase the message and be back home before anyone noticed I was gone. April would never know I had called, let alone been in her apartment. I could wipe all of this away. It isn't too late to undo this entire mess and fix things._

Two seconds later, Don was out of the door and flying through the sewers.

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April stormed into her apartment, swearing at Casey. That—that _insensitive jerk!!!_ She tried to stem the angry tears falling from her eyes, but they refused to abate. She gave up, letting the salt and mascara trail down her face as they willed while she kicked her heels off. One more date, a few more hours of her life down the drain.

She had tried, _so hard_, to make this work between them. She had been as patient and understanding and lenient as she could possibly be, because she cared for Casey and honestly thought they could have something, but she was sick of it never paying off. It takes two to tango, and Casey rarely even bothered to make it to the dance floor anymore. Things had been going downhill, and she couldn't believe that she hadn't realized before this that she should have stopped trying a while ago. Late dates, forgotten dates, ruined dates…and then tonight, which had taken the cake:

_Casey chose a fight over her_.

April had waited at the restaurant for nearly half an hour before she got a call on her cell phone from Casey, saying that he wouldn't be able to make it. Naturally, she'd been upset (understandably so, in her opinion), and had demanded an explanation. _He_ had been the one to ask for this date, after all, to try and make up for not being as attentive as he should have been, even choosing the nice restaurant to prove to her that he could be classy and try the things she liked as well. So when she heard his excuse, she could hardly keep herself from screaming at him in the middle of one of New York's nicer Italian restaurants.

He was in the hospital after taking down a group of Purple Dragons.

Apparently, he had been getting ready for their date when he'd seen about half a dozen Dragons breaking into one of the stores across the street from his apartment (and _of course_ **he** had to stop them, because it wasn't like there was a police station _one block away_, full of police officers whose _job_ entailed handling that very thing). So he'd headed over there and made his way through all of them, but not before the last one (armed with a pipe) had dislocated his knee. Casey had _then_ called the police, who in turn called an ambulance, who took Casey to the hospital, where he called her to let her know he wouldn't be able to make it.

Strike three; Casey was _out_. She had tried too hard for too long without any results, and she was sick of it. It was time to move on.

April dropped her things by the door and made her way to the freezer, hell-bent on finding the largest tub of ice cream she owned. Ben and Jerry's extra thick triple chocolate chunk with marshmallows wouldn't solve this problem, but it sure as hell wouldn't hurt, either.

She grabbed a spoon and her trusty ice cream, and turned to find a spot on the couch when the blinking of her answering machine caught her eye.

_Two new messages._ She snorted. _They're probably both from Casey…but I ought to at least check._

Pushing the 'play' button, April scowled as Casey's voice filled the apartment.

"_Ape, babe, pick up the phone, please?"_

April scowled as she swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. Jerk.

"_C'mon, I know yer mad, but it was just one date, and I managed t'knock out a buncha Dragons, so at least it was worth it, right?"_

"One date?" April asked the machine, incensed. "Oh no, it was more than _one_ date. This was date number…_ten_ or something that you screwed up," she snapped. "But I'm glad to know that 'at least it was worth it'." She snarled wordlessly, attacking her ice cream with a vengeance.

"—_No, wait, that ain't what I meant. I mean—it was important. Uh, not that you ain't important, 'cause you are, but I gotta do what I gotta do, right? I—dammit, Ape, I know yer there. Just—just call me back, 'kay? I'll make it up to you, I promise. I…yeah. Bye."_

April had to restrain herself from pulverizing the machine; it wasn't the one who had left her hanging to go play vigilante with a bunch of punks, it just recorded the message of the Neanderthal who did. She sucked on another spoonful of ice and punched the 'erase' button, decimating Casey's message.

She glared at the machine; should she even bother with the second message? It wasn't likely to be anyone other than Casey, and it was even less likely that he'd have anything to say that she'd actually care to hear. April reached out and hovered her finger over the answering machine. _Which button?_

_Play or erase?_

April grit her teeth and stabbed down on the button.

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Don reached April's apartment in record time, though severely winded. He nearly collapsed in relief when he landed on the fire escape and saw the lights off within the apartment. He slid his fingers under the ledge, then paused.

_Do I really want to do this…?_

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. _I ran over here like my shell was on fire, and now I'm not __**sure**_ Don's heart seemed determined to restart an age-old argument with his head.

_It could work—_

_It could __**never**__ work. She's human, I'm a turtle. She deserves better than—she deserves someone who can give her a real, full life._

_And you can't?_

_I can never take her out anywhere, or meet the other people in her life. I can never give her what she deserves._

_But you can give her what she wants. Someone who's there for her, someone dependable, someone who would place her second only to family and honor, not fist fights with Purple Dragons. What if she's content with that? Isn't it her choice? You'd at least be better for her than Casey._

_Maybe. But it's not—it's just not worth risking her friendship._ Don slid the window open and let himself in quickly before he could change his mind.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he slipped inside and sighed, regaining his breath as he made his way to April's phone. He grabbed a pencil off the counter, twirling it nervously as he approached, then stopped short. The answering machine blinked monotonously, and Don stared at it in disbelief.

The number '0' flashed up at him.

A snap echoed through the apartment as the innocent pencil was decimated in Don's hands. "No messages?" Don whispered to himself.

_The answering machine must have malfunctioned…_he thought breathlessly. _It hung up when the call came in…or maybe I dialed the wrong number…_

An explosive sigh burst out of Don as he slid down the floor with a thump. He couldn't help but laugh as he thought of his panicked flight over here.

_I had nothing to worry about. She never even heard the message—_

The relieved smile slowly disappeared off his face.

_She never even heard the message._

Don stared up at the ceiling stonily. Relief and disappointment battled back and forth within him, washing over him in waves. He shook his head and stood, reaching over to throw the shattered pencil halves in the trashcan. _It's for the best. I'm—glad. Really. It saved me the trouble of having to—_

The metallic click of a doorknob turning shattered the silence of the apartment.

Don's hand twitched off course at the sound, and the pencil halves landed haphazardly on the floor, clattering jarringly. He froze in the middle of the kitchen. _Please tell me I just imagined that—_

Light suddenly flooded the apartment as the door to April's bedroom opened.

_Oh no._

April walked out in a robe and slippers, with a container of ice cream in her hands, and flicked on the light. When she saw Don, she jumped and nearly dropped the carton on the floor.

"Don!!"

_To whoever's listening, if I have __**ever**__ done anything worthy of some kind of cosmic reward, then please strike me down where I stand right now_, Don pleaded silently.

The universe was smugly unresponsive.

_Shit._

Don grinned uneasily and rubbed the back of his head. "H-hey, April."

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh. I—" Don swallowed, trying to get his throat to loosen. "I—I've been working on some coding for upgrades to the Lair's security," he blurted out. "And I saw that I'd have them done by tonight so I thought I'd put them into effect right away, and then I realized that you guys wouldn't know about them, so I thought I'd come over and…leave a message so you'd know what to expect," he finished lamely, cringing internally at his lie.

April blinked a couple times, then smiled. "That's just like you, Don; all work and no play. You look like you've just finished running a marathon," she said, laughing.

Don laughed too, the sound slightly hysterical to his ears. "Yeah, I probably do. So, um, why are you back so early?"

"Why?" April's face darkened. "Because _Casey_ managed to land himself in the hospital right before our date," she bit out.

"What? Is he okay?"

"Don't feel sorry for him," April chastised, waving an ice cream-covered spoon at Don. "He deserves it. It seems some Purple Dragons were breaking into a shop across from his apartment right before he was supposed to meet me, and of course he went to stop them, never _mind_ those nice men in uniforms living a block away from his home, and landed himself in the hospital. He'll be fine…until he gets _out_, that is."

Don rubbed a hand over his face. _I'm going to kill him, if April doesn't beat me to it,_ he thought furiously, trying to control his anger. _How the shell could he—?_ "I'm sorry, April," he said quietly, forgetting his own worries at the sight of the hurt on the redhead's face. "You don't deserve that."

April smiled slightly and sat down at the kitchen table, poking at her ice cream. "I know. I deserve someone who's actually reliable. And Casey…just isn't that kind of guy. Not for having a relationship with, anyways."

"Yeah," Don agreed weakly. April's words were so close to his own…could she have played the message, then erased it? He eyed her carefully and cleared his throat. "Did he...uh, did he call and apologize, or anything?"

"Oh, he called alright," April replied, glaring at the answering machine. "There were two messages on the machine by the time I got home, but I didn't want to listen past the first one. There wasn't anything he could say that I was interested in hearing," she bit out as she dug another spoonful of ice cream out of the carton.

"So you…deleted the second message? Without listening to it?" Don asked faintly, his breath caught in his throat. _Could I actually have been that lucky?_

"Yes." April set down her spoon and stared at Don, narrowing her eyes. "Why? Do you think I shouldn't have?"

"No!" Don exclaimed vehemently, relief coursing through him—s_he didn't hear the message!—_before he winced and lowered his voice. "I mean, I don't think so, but—" Don shook his head. "Casey…it's his tendency to do things like that. It's admirable, but his actions…He was inconsiderate and unfair to you, especially considering that someone else could have handled it. I mean, the police could have been there in seconds."

April nodded, then looked at Don thoughtfully. "What about you, Donnie? What would you have done?"

Don blinked. "Um, what?"

"What would you have done? If you were supposed to be meeting me for a date and saw something like that?"

"Uh…" Don could feel himself blushing at the implied scenario and tried to think, but his poor, abused brain was floundering under all the strain it had endured in such a short amount of time. "I—I'd like to say that I wouldn't have left you hanging, but…I can't." He shrugged helplessly. "It's how I've been raised. My honor, my conscience wouldn't allow me to ignore a wrong like that just for something I'd rather be doing, even if it wouldn't be fair to you. I guess I can't really criticize Casey for that, because I'd probably do the same thing," he finished quietly, kicking himself. _I'm __**excusing**__ him. April is finally ready to stop trying, and I'm explaining away his mistakes, __**justifying**__ them. Good job, Donatello. Take an opportunity and just throw it away._

April stared at him silently and smiled. "I see. But _you_ would be doing it because it was right, not because it was right _and_ you were itching for a fight." She pursed her lips. "And you wouldn't land yourself in the hospital."

Don laughed slightly. "Probably not." He started inching towards the window. "Well, you probably want to be alone right now, and I don't want to leave that delicate coding alone with Mikey any longer than I have to, so I'm going to head back now. I just wanted to make sure you got my message—that I left the message—that you would know what was going on," he finished, trying for a grin.

"Oh." April glanced at the clock and shook her head. "And you'll probably have to head out for patrol soon too, won't you? I won't keep you any longer, then. I appreciate you listening to me vent, though, even though it's not your problem."

"I don't mind," Don assured her, lifting the window and climbing out carefully. "Goodnight, April."

The redhead waved with her spoon. "Goodnight, Donnie. Take care."

Don fled as soon as he got off of the fire escape, finally able to breathe again. A small knot of disappointment curled tightly in his stomach, but he ignored it, pushing himself for more speed.

_I'm glad. It's for the best. It only would have caused problems if she'd heard it._

_It's for the best._

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April watched as Don disappeared from outside her window, losing sight of him quickly in the dusky twilight. She glanced down at the ice cream carton in front of her and made a face; she'd worked through nearly half of it in one night. Pushing away from the table, she walked to the kitchen and picked up the broken pencil halves lying on the floor and set them down on the counter. A frown crossed her face as she contemplated the pieces. Reaching out, April pushed the two sections together, turning them until they meshed perfectly.

When she was done the pencil looked good as new.

She stared at it, trying not to see the nearly invisible hairline fracture that bisected the pencil, but her eyes drifted back to it each time. Nodding slowly, she reached out and swept the pieces to the floor where they separated anew.

April walked past the broken pencil and the ice cream to stand at the window, staring across the skyline in the direction she knew Don was most likely to have traveled. A small, secret smile settled on her lips as she reached into her pocket and wrapped a hand around a small black device. Running her fingers along the edge, she carefully depressed a button on the side, and a mechanical-sounding voice emitted from her pocket.

"_Hi, April, this is Don. Look, I know you're out right now…"_

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**A/N:** Ha HA!!! Eh? Whadda ya think about THAT:D I like to screw with you guys, and the boys. It was fun to write a Don-centric piece, and new too; I'm a hardcore Leo freak, so I'm just now starting to branch out a bit. Anyways, I hope you all liked it, and please review; it makes me happy deep in the cockles of my heart. :D


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